


A parody of intimacy

by nymeriastarks



Category: League of Legends RPF
Genre: Forced Crossdressing, Frottage, M/M, Porn With Plot, Riding, a subgenre i like to call 'uncomfortable porn', elias in a dress, original by xal, oskar being l9 oskar kinda, slight angst, translated from Russian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:48:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28300401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nymeriastarks/pseuds/nymeriastarks
Summary: Go shower Xalatath with as much love as you can, because she was of immense help in translating this, as well as because she's a lovely human being who could brighten anyone's day, and she definitely brightens mine with her texts.Merry Christmas <3
Relationships: Oskar "Selfmade" Boderek/Elias "Upset" Lipp
Comments: 3
Kudos: 15





	A parody of intimacy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Xalatath](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xalatath/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Пародия на близость](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27898012) by [Xalatath](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xalatath/pseuds/Xalatath). 



Elias looks ridiculous in a dress and a long blonde wig, so definitely unsexy, and Oskar thinks it's great this idiot didn’t choose to put makeup on, because he would have folded over laughing by now.

It’s obvious his wig is, well, a _ wig _ , and you can see that his dress must be uncomfortable - it's too tight, sticking to his chest and hips like a second skin. The sequins faintly rustle when he comes to the bed, and Oskar thinks that maybe, if you slide your hand through them, part of the dress will change color from its hot white to... something else? And well, maybe you could write something on it that way, and suddenly it all seems much more interesting to him than having sex with Elias.

Or maybe not quite.

In fact, Oskar catches himself thinking he's nervous. Nervous, because he didn’t think Elias would lose their bet, much less follow through with the conditions. But hey, who is to blame if Carzzy outclassed Upset in this match?

It’s wild to Oskar that Elias would really make the wintrade to climb on his dick dressed like a girl for losing.

But it's nice.

It’s lovely to live in a world where this is possible. And the realisation that this idiot really wants to fuck him, irregardless of the way in which he has to do it, turns Oskar on much more than the discomfort on Elias’ face at the situation he’s in.

"Let's get this over with," Elias says. The bed creaks under the weight of his body. Oskar smirks, feeling himself tremble with hardly contained, tense anticipation. He leans back on the wall, spreads his legs and slaps himself on the hips.

‘‘Get to work, Eli.’’

Elias casts an indignant glance at him, but only so much so. He fidgets on the bed, but doesn’t move just yet, and Oskar sees how much the straps of the dress and the edges of it are biting into his skin. It’s a cheap one, too: Oskar notices a thread sticking out from the seams, and the way the sequins are loosely stitched in, some of them near falling out. When Elias takes the dress off they will for sure leave a mark. Upset is as pale as a ghost, and soft-skinned, so he’d assumed he’d be easy to mark and bruise. Oskar thinks he might leave some more marks on that delicate skin of his, maybe even if Elias doesn't like it. He wouldn’t dare say a thing about it, because it wouldn’t fit with his "I’m doing everything you want, Oskar, because I want you all to like me so bad’’, so Oskar can do anything with Elias, anything he wants.

He won the bet, didn't he?

Damn right he did. 

So.

So why does Oskar feel sick from it now? All of this should’ve happened differently... and not with Elias. It feels as if he were still in Madrid, making a wish to "play with Nemi on the same team again", and as if magically granted by a rabbit foot, now he has to live in the reality where he got Tim back only to lose him again. 

To distract from the increasing bitterness of his thoughts, he touches Elias's body through the dress, grazing his belly, ignoring his erection (you really get turned on by that shit don’t you Upset, you sick fuck), to grope above, to his chest, rubbing the nipples with his fingers until Elias exhales a groan of his name.

Oskar, please.

Please  _ what _ , Oskar thinks, and catches himself considering that yes, he may be infuriated by the way Elias's voice sounds now, but the way Elias calls his name - his damn name - turns him on so much more.

It was easier with Tim. It was clearer with Tim. All he felt for Tim was like a sharp, hot knife, which eventually was driven straight through his heart. And Oskar is far from being a poet. Comparisons and metaphors irritate him, but Bwipo told him at the beginning of the season that if you try to write it, like a diary, then in the end it’ll look like the story of someone else, like it all happened to the character of the story you make, and that way you’ll cope with it a lot better, buddy. 

Oskar proceeded to tell him that his method was shit, and that he was fine.

Oskar lied then, and now he finds it’s true, it does work like that, it’s like a story. That’s why Oskar finds he is here and not somewhere else where he’s not on this bed, not driving his fingers through the sequin dress of a guy which in a bad dream he would never call his.

That’s not you.

You’re not here, and you’ve never been.

The flip side of the sequins turns out to be sickeningly pink. The color is like the plastic of a children’s toy, like the eyelids of an albino rat, and Oskar plays around with them on Elias’s stomach until he can spell out in this bright pink, ‘IDIOT’.

‘‘No’’, Elias squints, gaze again dripping irritation, no trace of the fake lust there two seconds ago, ‘‘you are the idiot’’. 

Oskar snorts to hide his laughter, and pulls him by the dress strands into a kiss.

Elias sits on his thighs while they make out. His mouth tastes like mint toothpaste and -very weakly- of vodka. Oskar rejoices, amused. If Elias had to get drunk to get himself into this Eastern European whore outfit, things must be real bad for him. Lost in the thought, he brusquely pulls the hem of the dress up, revealing his ass.

‘‘Wow, Eli, that’s lace’’, he says, admiring the other’s underwear when he breaks off the kiss, ‘‘How dedicated are you...’’.

Elias opens his mouth, probably to complain, but ends up having to pitifully bite his lip, all too aware of Oskar’s fingers rubbing his dick through the linen. His cheeks are burning, his head lowered in shame and desire, and Oskar catches himself thinking Elias really likes this kind of thing.

The air in the room has become too viscous, lava-like. Oskar’s own erection is becoming harder to ignore now, but he still catches Elias’s chin and jerks it toward him, leaving Elias nowhere to hide.

Elias’s blush is splashed on his cheeks in uneven, ugly spots, and his eyes are clouded over. He looks ruined, as if Oskar had already gone balls deep in him and fucked him into overdrive.

Oskar starts to realise that maybe Elias had so easily agreed to his stupid bet conditions because maybe, just maybe, he’d already longed to try something like that.

The thought does nothing but rile him up further, and he pulls on the linen band of the panties, letting it whip and sting Eli’s skin, and Elias moans open mouthed.

Everything is clear with you, Oskar thinks. He feels his face burn from the blood rushing to it, enthralled.

‘‘Go on’’ he says, and barely recognises his own voice. He brushes the loose strands of the dress aside to bite the junction between Elias’s neck and shoulder. He wants to bite harder, but the few rational thoughts he has left scold him that it’s not necessary to leave marks where they will be visible. He moves the thin strap to the side and licks and bites the trail it left on the skin, Elias rutting against his palm all the while.

It takes nothing for Elias to cum this way. Oskar doesn’t even think he’ll make fun of him, because Elias really looks like a camgirl when he finishes, moaning low and intermittently, arching his back. Oskar clutches his hips with a grip nearly bruising, and soon his own underwear is pulled down.

‘‘My turn now’’ Elias says, but before he manages to move at all, Oskar pulls off his wig, nearly tearing some strands of fake, plasticky hair.

‘‘What are you doing?’’ He hisses, breath coming short, slightly trembling as if his body temperature spiked, but Oskar doesn’t answer and only silently removes the mesh cap.

‘‘You look fucking weird as blonde’’, Oskar comments noncommittally.

A faint ‘ok’ comes as an answer, and Elias looks like himself again, which is very different from what he looked like just a couple of minutes ago sitting on his lap.

He pulls off his underwear, and then wraps his hand around Oskar’s neck. Oskar feels his other hand pull his dick out of his unbuttoned jeans, caressing it excruciatingly, but so nicely, and when Elias finally wraps his palm around the base and jerks him off slowly, Oskar wants to ask him to go faster, but Elias doesn’t let him, and he can only gape and try to steady his breathing.

Elias takes advantage of it and kisses him, aggressively and wetly, taking the initiative and fucking his mouth with his tongue. For a second he gets up, helping himself with his hand, and drops himself on Oskar’s dick. Oskar realises then that he’s not wearing a condom.

‘‘What-- Fucking hell, Elias, uh--’’

‘‘I doubt,’’ the other says, covering up Oskar’s mouth with his hand, clinging with the other to his shoulder as he starts to move up and down, ‘‘that I’ll catch anything from a virgin’’.

By the way you know your way around I’m sure I’ll catch something from you, he wants to snap; but it’s too rough, so he doesn’t.

Oskar doesn’t want to think about Elias fucking himself on his fingers or whatever he did before coming here, because the image of Elias with a bitten lip diligently stretching himself or dropping on a lubed toy might make him come faster than the heat around his cock.

He squeezes his hips, pulling him, forcing him to move a little faster, and Elias pretends not to mind. He’s not comfortable, and you can see it in his swollen mouth from all the bites and kisses. Even when Oskar shoves his dress up to his waist it doesn’t seem to help. Elias clings to his shoulders, cock still spent from his orgasm, but Oskar still wraps his fingers around it, masturbating him too fast. Elias winces.

‘‘I can’t-- too fast’’.

‘‘Weak’’. Oskar pulls him up, and immediately moans, because Elias begins to move sharply on him, rising and falling, fucking himself on Oskar’s dick without regard. It doesn’t last too long, even though Oskar tries to delay his orgasm as much as he can, thinking of whatever unpleasant shit he can muster, like roadkill on a highway, and fervently hopes he doesn’t cum with those images in mind. That’d make him more of a perverted sicko than even he can handle.

That’s why Oskar gives up.

He lets Elias kiss him. The other’s dick is almost hard again in his palm, but that would require more time, which Oskar doesn’t have. Elias doesn’t let him move away, and the heat making the air impossible to breathe finally splashes out of him as he moans Upset’s name. Or maybe it isn’t his name. Either way, he definitely prefers coming inside him than in his hand.

‘‘I need a shower,’’ Elias says. His voice is singing, and he looks like he just ran two marathons in a row.

‘‘Yeah, fucking leave already’’ Oskar says, but doesn’t let go of him. Elias doesn’t seem to mind kissing him, and Oskar really wants to kiss him, and run his fingers through his hair… But he doesn’t want to ask him to stay until morning.

‘‘Next time’’, he says, breaking off one of their kisses, ‘‘you’ll have to try it in normal clothes’’.

Elias looks at him with open mockery, and Oskar catches himself thinking he likes the heresy in his look much more than Tim’s indifferent gaze in those last months he was in the team.

‘‘Or without any clothes’’, Elias tells him, slapping his stomach, to which the sweat-soaked t-shirt sticks, ‘‘Now help me take off this dress. It’s pissing me off’’.

**Author's Note:**

> Go shower Xalatath with as much love as you can, because she was of immense help in translating this, as well as because she's a lovely human being who could brighten anyone's day, and she definitely brightens mine with her texts.
> 
> Merry Christmas <3


End file.
